


Sound as Bright as Lightning

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Synaesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-02
Updated: 2005-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:19:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon's world tastes wrong</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound as Bright as Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Nangi Akki. Thanks to elynross for the beta.

  
Napoleon's head is spinning like a frog in a blender, or maybe a nun falling downstairs. Words flicker and echo in his mind, images mixing with them until he can't tell if he's feeling a color or smelling a word. Red and white. Red and white. Red and white and black. 

He smiles and it hurts, and that's good. Right? At least the pain feels normal. Bruises. Contusions. Abrasions. It's as if someone wrote the words on his skin, leaving the pain behind. He focuses, trying to see what might have happened: the first things he notices are his torn shirt and his forearm caked with dried blood. 

He can feel a bed at his back, and if he turns his head slightly, there are bars on the window. It doesn't take much to connect the dots that mean prison cell, and from there, once the words stop spinning, Napoleon colors in the pictures that go with 'concussion' and 'drugs.' 

He doesn't know how long he's been held, but the blood on his arm is relatively fresh. He's missing his shoes, along with his gun and his communicator, but there's a small amount of explosive still hidden in his belt. If he could stand, he might be able to use it on the bars at the window, but his stomach protests every movement.

Throwing an arm over his eyes, Napoleon tries to rest and wait for the drugs to clear his system. He can feel himself vibrating, and muscles in his thighs start to twitch.

A sound as bright as lightning echoes outside of his room, and Napoleon feels it as a pressure on his chest and in his ears. He tries to sit up, but the pressure keeps him on the bed. His heart is pounding; he feels the sweat run down the back of his neck. 

This is his chance. If he can move, he can get away, but his body betrays him. 

He breathes carefully as strong hands guide him upright. "Napoleon."

His eyes flutter open, and he can see bright blue eyes, wisps of blond hair, and concerned features. "Il... Illya--" He can barely get the word out, his throat is so dry. He licks his lips as Illya steadies him.

"Do not try to talk." Illya has a syringe in one hand as he steadies Napoleon with the other. "I need to inject you with this before I can get you out of here. Understand?"

Napoleon nods, hissing as Illya rips the torn sleeve even more, revealing his bicep. The liquid looks vanilla, tastes silver as Illya injects it. 

Illya drops the syringe on the bed, his fingers gentle on Napoleon's arm as they wait for the antidote to take effect. He brushes Napoleon's jaw with his thumb, then quickly looks away. He leaves his hand on Napoleon's arm, though, and the feeling grounds him. Within moments, the pressure on his chest has eased. and Napoleon can breathe again.

He puts his hand over Illya's and squeezes; Illya gives him a sharp smile in return. He wraps his arm around Napoleon and helps him off of the bed. 

Napoleon's legs are shaky, but things seem normal again; his stomach doesn't protest the movement, so Napoleon figures he's good enough to go. 

Illya's looking at him, his eyes shadowed. "One thing," he says quickly, nearly biting off the words in his haste. Then he brushes the edge of Napoleon's lips with his own. "It is good to see you alive."

Then his gun is in his hand, and he's out the door, Napoleon only a few steps behind him.

 

THE END  
Sound as Bright as Lightning  
October 2005


End file.
